Progression
by blindspottedllama
Summary: [Jeller] Amid her deteriorating health, Jane struggles to retain her quality of life, and Kurt balances comfort and concern while the team seeks a cure. Post 4x10.
1. Chapter 1

Kurt drove them home, finding a spot to park a couple blocks from their apartment. He took her hand, staying connected with her while they walked their last paces down the sidewalk. In the silence, Kurt attuned to her footsteps, noticing her gait quickly transferring from the right and falling heavier on the left. Her arm swung unevenly, taking his with it on a lopsided journey.

He held the door open for her, ushering her inside, and she took to the stairs. Halfway up the first flight she hissed, her left hand crossing to her right thigh and pressing into the sore muscle. Kurt walked up the few stairs to stand next to her rather than behind her and rested a steadying arm around her waist. "Cramp," she explained, kneading the muscle with the heel of her palm.

He followed the pain through her eyes closing down to the corners of her lips drooping, a recurrent look that day. With a guarded breath, she let go of her leg and tested the next step, wanting to be inside their apartment in pajamas rather than the chilled stairwell. She clenched her jaw through the rest of the stairs, and Kurt let them into the apartment. Thoughts of pajamas pulled her to the bedroom, leaving Kurt to lock up and put her shoes away.

Kurt retrieved her cloth rice bag from the cabinet, warmed it in the microwave, and wrapped it in a clean dishtowel. He carried the nestled cargo to the bedroom and found his wife laying on her back on the floor with her eyes closed, freshly dressed in shorts and swimming in one of his sweatshirts. "I brought your heat pack," he explained, crouching next to her and placing his hand above her right knee where he had seen her hand linger before, "where do you need it?"

"A little bit higher," she guided, and he adjusted, "there."

He replaced his bare hand with the heat pack, and when he was sure it was steady, he sat behind her head, gently working the pads of his fingers into her scalp. When she opened her eyes, he stopped and kissed her forehead. "Thank you," she spoke, reaching her right hand up to hold his.

"Anything else I can do?" he asked.

"No," she declined, "I'm okay."

"Dinner?" he offered.

"Sure. I'll come out in a bit," she promised, her eyes sinking closed in search of peace.

Kurt kissed her forehead again and squeezed her hand before heading to the kitchen.

* * *

When Jane emerged from the bedroom to the warmth of curry spices permeating her nose, she thought she would find Kurt cooking, yet she followed the lack of his presence to the balcony. She watched him from inside, staring out at the city, sipping from a mug and resting his other hand on the railing. He turned his head toward her when he heard the slide of the door, and turned to meet her in a hug when she reached him. "Tea?" he tipped his mug toward her in suggestion.

She took a sip, the tea warming her face and trailing to her belly, and returned the mug to him. "The curry smells great," she shared, and he pulled her in front of him, holding her between him and the railing, both of them looking out over the city.

"How's the leg?" he asked, his free arm resting over hers around her waist.

He kept an internal log of her symptoms, gauging which way the daily seesaw of her overall wellness was teetering. "Okay," she responded.

His eyes wandered through the lights of the bridge. "Is there anywhere you want to go?" he voiced his curiosity.

"Wherever the caches take us," she answered rationally.

"I mean…" he started and trailed off, his intent lost on his tongue.

"When this is over, I'd like to go to London and get lost in Shoreditch," Jane considered, "then we can wander the country and you can tell me all about some of the places you've discovered through your books."

"Anywhere you want to go now?" he reframed, his confidence growing from her train of thought.

"Inside?" she joked, diverting the conversation. "It's cold out here, and dinner is waiting from one of my favorite chefs."

" _One_ of your favorite?" he teased, his arm squeezing her middle a little bit tighter.

He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder where the sweatshirt had fallen to the side and led her back inside.

* * *

They sat next to each other at the round table, Kurt having served them both rice and vegan yellow curry. They seemed to have some of their deepest conversations over food lately, having platefuls and eating to keep them occupied through talk of their predicament.

"There's something I've been thinking about," Jane shared.

"What is it?" Kurt asked, his fingers lingering at her elbow.

"I don't want to deteriorate to the point I can't be me," Jane admitted the fear that presented as she experienced more symptoms.

He couldn't promise her that she'd be cured - couldn't promise that he'd find the Stanton cells. He could only promise that he'd give all to try and that he'd be beside her for every rough day along the way. Kurt swallowed, steadying his response. "I'll do _everything_ I can," he emphasized, connecting with her eyes, his crinkles channeling his love for her.

"You're already doing so much. I'm _so_ grateful," she took another bite of her curry and swallowed, needing to explain, "I promised you honesty…"

She trailed off and took another bite as cover. "It's okay to be scared," he soothed, catching her elbow in his hand and seeking her eyes once more, "I'm scared."

She dipped her chin in a quiet nod of understanding. Her nightmares and flashbacks reared a cacophony of fears, competing to bring her to her knees. None of the fears were constructive, so she shut the twisted music box and buried it in the recesses of her mind to focus on what she had left of her life. She was careful that only a few major notes strayed through the lid. "If the pain gets worse…" she trailed off again.

"Tell me. We'll get through it together. Whatever you need," he assured.

Comforted by his confidence, she nodded, trading her fork for weaving her fingers in his, staying connected while he finished his curry.

* * *

Well fed and showered, Kurt emerged from the bathroom to Jane sitting in bed, resting against the headboard. When the mattress sunk beside her, she set her phone on the nightstand and met her husband's lips, some stray moisture in his beard transferring to her cheek. His hand drifted to her thigh, and he suggested, "How about a light massage?"

"That would be wonderful," she admitted, giving him another kiss.

He focused his attention on her right thigh, carefully molding her muscles and varying the pressure based on the tension beneath his fingertips and lining her face. He repeated the same on her left thigh, then snuck his hand up under the sweatshirt, brushing the soft skin of her stomach. He kissed her softly, and she drew his bottom lip between hers, initiating a series of languid kisses. Her fingers migrated to his chest, seeking familiarity in the sprawl of hair, and his hand rose, his thumb tracing the crease under her left breast. "Mmmm," she moaned into his mouth, their tongues meandering.

He took a brief pause from caressing her breast to catch the hem of the sweatshirt, pulling it over her head and leaving her locks askew. He teased, nipping beneath her ear and tracing kisses to her collarbone, goosebumps trailing in his wake. He traversed her bare skin in faint kisses, covering every inch he cherished. They embraced the present, exploring and savoring each other to blissful peak, then fell asleep in each other's arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane woke to pain under her ribs nudging her when she breathed. It was an uncomfortable tightness that squeezed as she inhaled, then relented. She rubbed at her ribs, pressing where it was tender, willing the pain to go away. When it didn't, she sat up, hoping the change in position would bring her some relief.

Was this what she had to look forward to? Pain traipsing through different areas of her body, leaving keys, shoes, and coats behind to weigh her down with exhaustion? Trying to hold herself together with tape and glue when she needed a miracle of modern medicine?

She kept looking at the clock: 1 minute, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes. When the pain still hadn't subsided at 20 minutes, she grasped Kurt's shoulder. 3:22AM. "Kurt," she spoke, shaking his shoulder, and repeated, "Kurt."

He raised his hand to his eyes, rubbing at them. "Hmm?" he mumbled, sleepiness winning.

"Kurt," she spoke one more time, squeezing his shoulder.

He pulled his hand back from his face and opened his eyes, following her arm up to where she sat. "What is it?" he responded, concerned, sitting up next to her.

Her hand returned to her ribs from his shoulder when he sat up, and she kneaded them softly. "It hurts when I breathe," she explained plainly, devoid of fear, downplaying the arrival of her latest symptom.

His heart leaped straight to protector mode, his alarm hidden in the darkness, yet peeking through his voice. "Do you want to go to the hospital?" he asked, his hand rising to cup her cheek.

"No," she quickly declined, not wanting to add that trip to her morning, "I'm just telling you."

Progress. "What can I do?" he reframed.

If she was listening to him, the least he could do was attempt the same, even though her agitation wakened his want to whisk her to a doctor who could ease her symptoms. Except they hadn't found that doctor; hadn't found that remedy that would prevent her body from teetering toward failure. And any time in a medical facility would make her anxious and downcast - _worse_.

"I need the heat pack again," she requested, breaking his tilting thoughts.

"I'll get it," he quickly returned, kissing the top of her head and swinging over the side of the bed to head to the kitchen.

She followed him, pacing the living room in her long t-shirt, again hoping that another change in position would soothe the tension. He watched quietly from the microwave, one of her hands pressed into her ribs as she walked in front of the couch. At its beep, he removed the cloth rice bag from the microwave, wrapped it in a towel, and crossed the room to Jane.

Before he could ask where she wanted it, she took his hand, guiding the heat pack up to where she had previously been pressing her ribs. Her other arm wrapped around his back and she rested her head against his chest, while his other hand rose to her hair, stroking it in a repetitive, soothing motion. He kissed the top of her head and supported her through her strained breaths escaping into his chest, willing her to feel better.

Jane shuddered against him, whimpering and tensing, her arm squeezing him tighter. Was one of the lost soles kicking until she dropped? Maybe there wasn't a position she'd be able to evade the discomfort. Maybe the hourglass filled by Sandstorm was running out.

"Think about Bethany coming soon and how much she's going to want to box with you," Kurt guided, gently swaying and trying to distract her, "her little jab-crosses, kicks, and tickle wars."

Between his injury and their ordeal, his daughter had been unable to visit for some time. They adored having her, and he hoped giving Jane their adventures to look forward to might help relinquish her brain's grasp of pain. "How she wants you to read every book at bedtime," he continued.

She found her voice somewhere beneath the pile of discarded effects burdening her. Maybe her husband could help extract her. "Convincing Daddy the only way to explore the city is on his shoulders," she said, thinking of the glee that crossed Kurt's face when she was on top of the world.

"Hugging _every_ dog at the park," he remembered their many days of Bethany squealing "Puppy!" and one of them barely asking if she could pet the dog before she enveloped it in a hug.

"Requesting a sibling," Jane said wistfully, recalling Kurt's suggestive dip in his eyebrows at her over Bethany's head when she said she wanted a sister like her friend.

Regret wasn't a planned stop on the reminiscence trip. "When this is over," he assured, and they lapsed into silence.

Over time, her breathing slowed, her muscles no longer clenching in pain with each breath. She moved her hand from the heat pack and looped it around his back, relaxing further into his chest. He stopped stroking her hair and rested his hand at the base of her skull, lightly kneading it. "That feels good," she encouraged, her words muffled into his chest.

"How's your breathing?" he asked, checking on her.

"Okay," she responded.

She let a few more moments pass, comforted by his touch that had turned into a neck rub, and then suggested, "I think I'm okay. Let's try to get back to sleep."

He kissed the top of her head again, then led her back to the bedroom. She curled up on her side of the bed, hugging the heat pack for solace, and Kurt eased in behind her, running a soothing hand up and down her back. "Thank you," she spoke, her voice wispy.

"I'm always here," he replied, kissing her shoulder and holding her as they drifted off.

* * *

When Kurt woke, he carefully withdrew from the bed, leaving Jane to sleep.

He poked his head back in the room an hour later, her still form resting in the same place on the bed. He quietly watched her chest rise and fall for a few minutes, then turned to go back to the living room. "I'm awake," she spoke, yet didn't move.

He faced the room again and walked into it, kneeling beside her side of the bed. "Hi," he said softly, setting his hand on her upper arm.

Her eyes remained closed. "Hi," she returned, her voice hushed.

"Your head?" he asked.

"Yes," she confirmed, the hammer bringing its daily dose of disturbance.

He slid his hand up to the base of her skull, his fingers lightly pressing. "Can I?" he questioned.

"Yes," she agreed.

He lightly massaged the back of her head, neck, and scalp with his fingertips, an action that had become his first line of comfort. "What else can I can do?" he asked.

"I gotta get up so we can get going," she said, sitting up and stilling while she reoriented.

"You don't -" he started, yet she cut him off curtly.

"I'm going," she affirmed.

"How about some oatmeal?" he suggested, needing to offer something to bring things closer to balanced.

* * *

They were looking for a suspect who had become infatuated with a book about an FBI team and sought to capture one of them for his own. Their day progressed from a briefing, to research, to suits in the car on the way to murder mystery dinner theater in Long Island. Patterson drove with Rich shotgun, and Jane and Kurt in the back.

Jane leaned against the door with her eyes closed, her thumb pushing into her right thigh. Her energy had diminished throughout the day, yet she clung to the normalcy of seeking a suspect in a case. Kurt shifted closer to her, his hand covering hers, offering to take over. He rubbed her thigh, eliciting a hiss that prompted Rich's attention. "You beating up my girl?" Rich questioned in mock warning, his jacket glowing under the streetlights.

Kurt ignored him, focusing on his wife's well-being. She pushed his hand away when he hit another tender spot, and she shifted uncomfortably. "Give me your feet," he suggested, and she found herself spun in her seat, her legs resting across his suit pants.

"Ooo, getting kinky back there," Rich teased, twisting his head, "the seat folds down if you want more room to get busy. I'll sit right here and watch."

"Rich," Kurt warned.

"I can turn around," Patterson offered.

"No," Jane voiced, "it comes and goes."

"Yesss, come…" Rich started, attempting to keep the mood light.

"Rich!" the whole car cut off his antics, the team riding in silence the rest of the way to the venue.

* * *

Kurt and Jane hung back in the car for a moment when Patterson and Rich headed inside. "If you need a break, come back here," Kurt guided.

"I'll be fine," Jane assured.

"Please," he urged, "if you don't feel up to it…"

"Okay," she promised, wanting to get on with the mission.

He understood, even supported her need to remain in the field. He also knew it had been a rough day, his wife having been tossed from the seesaw under the weight of the ZIP poisoning. The mirage of bringing her home and holding her to heal her ills was appealing. "You look great in that jacket," he shared, giving her a brief kiss.

"You're pretty sexy in that suit yourself - so handsome you could unbutton every button," she returned, quoting the book, then added, "too bad I can't take you out for a date."

"Soon," he replied, quoting, "she was hard in leather, enough to make you…"

"Guys, comms," Patterson chided, trying to get them back on track for the mission.

"C'mon, that's the good part," Rich complained, having read the entire book of their suspect's obsession.

Jane opened her door and stood, straightening her jacket and heading for the venue, Kurt in tow.

* * *

They discovered their suspect among the group, taking a liking for Rich and following him throughout the game as he tried to get close enough to drug one of the team. It was nearly the end of the event when they finally caught their suspect emptying a capsule into Patterson's drink and moved to apprehend him.

Jane disappeared as soon as they returned from the field, leaving Kurt, Patterson, and Rich to debrief. She changed back into her long-sleeved shirt and dark jeans, stripping her mystery persona, and sat, waiting for Kurt.

"There you are," Kurt said, finding her sitting on a bench in the locker room with her head lowered, "we're about to conduct the interrogation."

As much as she wanted to tag in, she was flagging, running out of tape and glue, the ZIP poisoning winning the battle for the day. "I need to go home," Jane spoke in defeat, and he dropped a hand to her shoulder.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"There," she said quickly, then added, "I can't get the pain to stop."

"I'll take you," he offered, "get you whatever you need."

"Sleep," she replied, "thank you."

Jane rose and stumbled toward the lockers, Kurt steadying her at the elbow. "Put your arm around me," he advised, wrapping his arm around her waist in turn.

He led her from the building and drove them home, dropping her at the front door before finding a place to park. Words of overdoing it went unspoken from both of them, and she collapsed into bed in fatigue.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Jane assured Kurt that the pain was manageable. That what sometimes felt like hammering stakes into her skull currently lingered at aimless tapping. She smiled and shared coffee with him at breakfast, huddling against him on the couch longer than usual before they ventured for work.

In his sanctuary, her thoughts wandered to what she might expect going forward and arrived at the only other case she knew of: her brother. "I wonder what Roman felt like, alone," she shared, comparing her situation to his.

His mind returned to Cape Town, recalling how much he wished he could have stayed by her side. She came back so…broken. "You were there," Kurt indicated.

She had her badass husband looking out for her, holding her, ready to leap for whatever she needed. He had no one. "I mean before. He was facing death by himself," she pointed out.

"He kept calling someone on the phone," he recollected what they had learned along the way.

She shook her head. "It's not the same," she contended.

He interlaced their fingers. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised.

She tipped her head up to give him a kiss. "I know," she acknowledged.

The words of "you're not going to die" stayed in his mind. Faced with a known fatal condition, they had learned not to use palliative platitudes. Death wasn't part of the plan, yet there was still a chance it could happen. He squeezed her tighter, the lingering scent of her shampoo reaching his nose. "Breakfast?" he offered.

"Let's get chocolate croissants on the way," she suggested, "my treat."

"Mmm, my favorite," he replied, kissing her and getting up to get ready.

* * *

Their jaunt at murder mystery dinner theater found their suspect who was far too obsessed with the team, and now they needed to search his house to locate the book hiding his tie to the team. They cleared the suspect's house, not discovering anyone on the premises. The team split up throughout the property, examining anything of use. Jane took the garage, finding it largely barren. "An empty loft here so far," Jane shared over comms.

"There's only old manuscripts down here," Reade reported from the basement.

"Bound copies up here," Rich shared from the second floor library.

"Anything that matches the one we're looking for?" Kurt asked from the office attached to the garage.

Hearing negatives all around, they kept rummaging through boxes and closets. Their suspect wouldn't give them any clues as to the book's location, seeming to enjoy sending them wandering to solve a mystery of his own.

Jane turned from the loft, and steel pierced her skull when her eyes caught the sun peeking through the windows. A sudden flare of pain when she breathed snapped her hand back to her ribs. Dazed, she registered that it was difficult to breathe as pain radiated through her body, and her legs gave out, sinking to the floor.

Kurt opened a file cabinet, then slid it closed when he didn't see any books. When he moved to open the next drawer, he heard a thud through the wall and stopped. "Jane?" he called.

Receiving no response, he exited the office and circled back to the garage entrance.

"What's going on?" came Patterson's inquiry over comms.

Entering the garage, Kurt discovered Jane crumpled on the floor and rushed to her side. Her face was slack with unconsciousness, her breathing labored. "We need medical!" he hollered.

Her position reminded him of when she fell asleep curled up on the couch, her book having escaped her fingers and dropped to the floor to rest. Yet he could hear her struggle to breathe, and his hand on her cheek wouldn't coax her awake. "Jane," he shook her, his alarm spewing into his voice, "Jane!"

She remained still on the cold concrete of the garage floor. He ran his hands along her body, under her jacket and down her legs, searching for any outward signs of injury, yet he found none. The only thing that attacked her was inside.

A soft voice of "hurts…" escaped, and Kurt assured, "Jane, I'm here. Help is coming."

* * *

By the time the ambulance arrived, Jane was conscious and holding her head and ribs in pain, her knees curled toward her middle. The ambulance whisked her away, and Patterson followed, bringing Kurt to her. It was a few hours of stunned nothingness before a doctor came to find him. "Her brain is misfiring," the doctor had explained, "her body will forget how to function. We can try to help manage her pain, yet without a cure, there's nothing else we can do."

"There's nothing else we can do" echoed through every pathway in his mind, jeering stops, wrong ways, and dead ends until he crashed into the chair next to the doctor. His head fell into his hands, faced with the grim reality he would lose his wife. The doctor's confirmation he could see her was the only thing that made his legs mobile again.

She looked despondent - her exhaustion living in the dark circles under her eyes and drawn in her lips. He clasped her hand and kissed her temple, his voice raspy in sharing "I'm here," against her ear.

"Did they tell you?" she checked, her voice weary.

"Yes. I'm here," he assured, silent tears falling from his eyes and landing on her neck.

His tears threatened to break her dam. "I want to go home," she said, her voice wobbling.

He felt powerless experiencing his wife crying from something so far beyond their control. Her tears were typically born of emotional warfare, nightmares, or particularly harsh days that left her heaving in his arms until his swells of support overpowered the swells of her demons. Yet this wasn't something they had caused, and they were struggling to vanquish the oppressive beast.

From the doctor, amid the dull fog, he'd discerned she was too weak to walk. They worried she would stop breathing. That her organs would start shutting down. He couldn't give her what she wanted. He didn't have the cure she needed. "I need you to keep fighting," he encouraged.

"I'm tired," she shared, her voice haggard.

"Sleep - I'll be right here," he promised, extracting his head from her neck, clearing her tears, and kissing her cheek.

He'd stay by her side until he could bring her home.

* * *

Kurt looked up when Jane fell asleep to find Patterson and Rich standing in the corner of the room. He stood and joined them. "There's nothing they can do," Kurt updated, his face red from shed tears.

"She doesn't have much time left," Rich indicated plainly.

"We need to find a cure," Kurt urged, "I can't imagine my life without her."

Waves of "there's nothing they can do" crashed, and Kurt broke down, Patterson pulling him into a hug as he shook with impending loss. She and Rich had come to share favorable news, yet it was difficult to see through the tipping tide.

Once Kurt gathered himself enough to pull away, Patterson shared, "Rich and I are leaving for Peru to follow a lead on a cure."

She didn't disclose they were chasing a magical book in Machu Picchu. Didn't reveal they were going to trade it for the Stanton cells. There was only one adventure he needed to focus on. He had them to take care of the other.

"I need to stay here," he stated what the team undoubtedly knew.

"We've got this," Rich affirmed, "You stay strong for her."

His team would bring the cure he couldn't. Kurt didn't know what to say other than "thank you."

Rich nearly forgot the bundle in his hands. "I got Jane a robe from one of the nurses," Rich explained, offering the folded blue robe to Kurt, "it'll help her be more comfortable."

"Thanks. Be safe out there," he returned, hugging each of them before they left.

* * *

Jane woke again later in the evening and turned away Kurt's offer of food. He guided her arms into the robe Rich had brought and repositioned the pillows under her side to ease the pressure points. She faced him in his golem chair.

"I'm worried nothing is going to help," she admitted, her arm listless across the bed.

He covered her hand with his. "Do you need something more for the pain?" he asked, concerned that the missed dose while she was sleeping was catching up with her.

"No. It's making me fuzzy," she revealed, "I'd like to be clear."

He understood her desire for control. The surge of ZIP poisoning was rolling, and she was getting tossed and submerged in the flow. Her ability to make choices treaded her head above water.

"Rich and Patterson are going to Peru to find a cure," Kurt explained what had transpired while she was sleeping, and she nodded in understanding, "you just need to keep being strong."

Her strength ebbed in the uneasy environment, swallowed by the current of medicinal smells, beeps, and unfamiliar people. "I want to go home," she reiterated.

"I'm sorry - I can't take you yet," he stated, distress returning that he couldn't give her what she needed, "I can get you anything you want from home in the meantime."

"I don't want to _die_ here," she leveled, "if something goes wrong and the team doesn't get the cure, I want to go _home_."

His eyes teared even considering that. "Okay," he said gravelly, his head dropping with the onset of tears.

"Kurt?" she asked, feeling guilty she wasn't more tactful sharing her request, yet relieved it was out in the open.

He raised his head to meet her eyes. "I need to hold you," he indicated, squeezing her hand.

She scooched closer to the railing, and Kurt circled the bed, cautiously avoiding the leads, balancing behind her, and folding her in his arms. "I'm here," she assured, twining her arms in his.

He buried his head in her hair and held her, buoying each other in the storm.

* * *

Kurt's cellphone ringing disturbed their embrace. At Jane's words of "get it," he carefully extracted himself from the bed and retrieved his phone. "Rich?" he answered.

"Is Jane awake?" Rich asked.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Can I talk to her?" Rich requested.

"Rich wants to talk to you," Kurt explained, reaching out the phone for her to accept or decline.

She took it. "Hi, Rich," Jane greeted.

"How's my warrior princess?" Rich queried, choosing joy.

"Very funny," she dismissed.

Rich stuck to the procedural first. "We're waiting for our flight to Peru," he shared.

"Kurt told me," she indicated.

"We're going to find it, Jane," he assured.

"I know you will," she affirmed.

What did one say to facing death? Go get 'em? "Just…hang in there, okay?" he encouraged.

"Yeah. I'll see you when you get back," she responded.

"Gotta keep our date for a threesome," he joked, bringing a smile to her face as she hung up.

Kurt set his phone back on the bedside table. "They're at the airport," Jane explained.

"It's good to see you smiling," Kurt noted, looping her hair behind her ear.

"Rich took his usual opportunity to suggest a threesome," she shared.

Kurt shook his head and leaked a small smile. "How is that the one thing that's normal?" he mused.


	4. Chapter 4

Jane was deteriorating more rapidly than Kurt had expected. The doctors alleviated her pain and seizures, yet their friends were their only hope for a cure. Kurt worried there would come a time she wouldn't wake from the seizures, that the muscle contractions would squeeze his wife from her body, leaving only a cracked shell.

Kurt sought anything that would make her ordeal more manageable. She kept telling him she didn't need anything, though she became quieter, mollified by the aftereffects of the seizures. Maybe if he offered something specific she would accept it.

Limited by her brain's dysfunction, she hadn't had a lot of opportunity to move. "Jane, would you like to go outside?" he asked.

When skepticism crossed her face, he explained, "I can take you. The sun might feel nice."

She didn't know if she'd get to feel the sun again. "Okay," she agreed.

Two nurses helped Jane into a wheelchair and stationed her IV pole and monitor beside it. "Any sign of distress, you bring her back in," one of the nurses instructed sternly.

Kurt nodded. He ensured she was thoroughly wrapped in blankets before starting their walk. Kurt wheeled Jane to the rooftop garden, a place designed to give patients and staff a place to escape and decompress. He positioned her in the sliver of sun he found and kneeled in front of her. "Is this okay?" he asked, holding her hand.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"It's not quite the park, but feel that breeze," he pointed out.

"Is your hair floofing like at the beach?" she asked, reaching her hand toward him.

He intercepted it and threaded it into his hair, letting her feel the wind's effects. She wandered from his hair down to his cheek, caressing the skin where it met his beard. He took her hand in his and leaned forward to give her lips a light kiss.

The fresh air helped awaken her thoughts. "Can you dial Avery on my phone?" she requested.

He nodded his head, then added "sure," in response. He dialed and put the phone in her hand. Jane waited, getting her voicemail. "Avery? It's your…Jane. I know you're busy with school - I just wanted to tell you I'm proud of you," she said and paused, not knowing what else to add, "Give me a call when you're free."

Jane returned the phone to him. "Can you call Allie? Bethany?" she asked.

Kurt swapped their phones in his pocket, calling Allie on his cell. He updated her on Jane's condition, then handed the phone to Jane. "Someone here wants to talk to you," Allie shared.

"Mama Jane!" Bethany squealed.

"Hi, honey," she replied, taking a deep breath to keep the wavering out of her voice.

"I made a magic wand that makes things disappear. And I have a unicorn hat, and rainbow skirt, and Mommy says I can start karate," Bethany rattled off.

Jane was tiring following her stepdaughter's latest adventures. "That's great," Jane responded, getting to what she wanted to say, "Bethany, I love you."

"Lub you!" Bethany declared in return.

Allie got back on the phone. "Jane, hang in there. We love you and will see you soon," Allie affirmed.

Jane handed the phone back to Kurt. "Is there anyone else you'd like to talk to?" he asked, glad he'd found some way he could be useful.

This was starting to feel like a procession of loved ones. "No," she declined.

Kurt kept his hands on her knees, massaging while she took in the sun. "If this gets worse, have anyone come who can help you. Allie, your sister," Jane indicated, then said quietly, "beyond that, I don't want a pilgrimage of everyone coming to see me before I die."

He agreed with a squeeze of her hand. Spending his energy on attending to her wishes left less energy to hopelessly worry. They relaxed for a few more minutes then she requested, "Can you take me back inside? I'm tired."

* * *

The night stretched on eternally, Jane's pain worsening and more difficult to control. Her senses were failing, her ability to discern his touch at times disappearing with her sight and hearing. With her combination of sensory misfires, it was becoming problematic to let her know he was there.

As she struggled to breathe, he struggled with the decision of taking her home. Patterson's text of "got it. we're on our way back," kept him from acting on Jane's request. Surely they would get back in time. Surely he wouldn't fail fulfilling his wife's last wishes.

Jane's muscles spasming erratically again had Kurt rolling her to her side and nurses entering to care for her. Except this time she didn't wake. She slipped toward the coma they had feared, engulfed by the undertoad.

* * *

When Dr. Roga arrived, Jane was hurried away from Kurt, leaving Patterson and Rich in wait with him. Kurt dropped in a chair, overcome with thoughts of "they made it." Patterson kept her hand on his shoulder, reassuring him they had a cure - everything would be okay.

"The mountains were beautiful," Rich recalled, trying to pass the time.

"When you droned on about how much more the Book of Secrets should have fetched, I almost left you in Peru," Patterson revealed.

"I didn't know how many vials of the Stanton cells we needed," Rich explained, his hands in the air in defeat, "I wanted to make sure we had enough to save Jane."

"Admit you didn't want to part with the book," Patterson challenged.

"It was a noble sacrifice for Jane," Rich said gallantly, and Patterson rolled her eyes at his display.

It took hours to return Jane to them. Kurt remained quiet while Rich anxiously bantered with Patterson. By Dr. Roga's account, administering the first round of treatment had gone well. Now they were back to waiting.

* * *

Over the next few days, they pumped Jane's body full of drugs to cure her, yet the side effects brought fever and restlessness. Her normally clear skin erupted in a rash across her stomach in allergy. She had come out of the coma, yet was still in significant pain. The doctors explained that was normal, that months of ZIP poisoning would take months of recovery.

"Kurt," she called, reaching out for him in the darkness.

"I'm here," he soothed, taking her hand and brushing the back with his fingers, "you're okay."

The team had successfully halted the ZIP poisoning's progression. It would be a short time before Kurt could finally fulfill Jane's request to go home.

* * *

fin


End file.
